Pain
by Illusions Of Fate
Summary: Any emotion he showed just caused pain, and that was why he had pretended that he didn‘t have them at all. Slight Bel/Mammon and Bel/Fran depending on how you look at it.


To anyone who had read anything that I previously wrote: Sorry for not finishing the other Bel/Fran one. I just felt like it was getting a little too OOC, or Fran at least.

I wrote this when I was half asleep at five am, so it's not supposed to actually sound good at all. It was just an idea running through my head.

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Pain. Pain was just a weakness, a feeling that no one wanted, especially not Fran. Any emotion he showed just caused pain, and that was why he had pretended that he didn't have them at all. The mafia was no place for misplaced feelings, or smiles. It was a world of hate, suffering, and greed. Wanting everything, and doing anything to get it. Just like Mammon, the guardian before him, had seemed to do.

Fran had never met the arcobaleno, and never had the desire to actually hear about him more than he did. The only times he had even heard Mammon mentioned after he had gotten briefed when he was first kidnapped by the Varia and forced there was when Belphegor got irritated with him.

"You'll never replace Mammon." "You're just an uncute kouhai; everyone thinks Mammon is better than you." "Why don't you just kill yourself, and save me the trouble." Honestly, Bel didn't need to say the same things more than once but he seemed to feel the need to. Over and over and over again the fake prince harassed him just because he was Fran and wasn't Mammon. He was almost starting to wish that he actually was this Mammon. Maybe then Bel would just shut up and stop tormenting him every second he was with him.

The threats, the knives, that smile that made him want to run miles away from Bel. Sometimes he pondered over if Bel was just doing those things to get rid of him. In his head the answer was always yes. Hell, he'd love to leave if he could.

These sort of thoughts were always running through his head, searching for answers that he'd probably never hear. Even in the early mornings, when he was laying in bed just staring up at the ceiling with emotionless teal eyes.

Fran had even been forced to sleep with the reminder that he wasn't Mammon. The large frog hat was perched on his head; it actually made a good pillow in a way. He hated the sight of the plush hat. If it wasn't for the thought that Belphegor probably had some sort of way of seeing him even in his own room and would come running in just to sew the damn thing to his head, he would have taken it off long ago. He'd heard that threat before many times. Even Bel used fear to control him, just like every other Mafioso.

He was starting to not even care; maybe if he just did exactly as told then Bel would stop with the threats, and leaving multiple scars on him. A smirk had almost escaped his mask at the thought. Fran would never, ever let Belphegor have the victory of ruling over him like that. He wasn't some civilian in the prince's kingdom and never would be.

The sound of running alerted him that someone was nearby. It was time for him to get up, lest Belphegor come barging in and forcing knives into his skin until he did. Fran sat up in the bed and tilted the frog hat back slightly to finger-comb through the teal hair that fell down to his eyes, and down to his shoulders. The footsteps just seemed to get closer and closer to his own bedroom door. Oh hell, it was Bel wasn't it?

Now that he had thought about it, it was just slightly passed the time that he usually went out into the kitchen to get whatever food was laying around to eat for breakfast. In his head, he was doing some sort of mental wince. Rushing now, Fran swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Right when he was about to run to his closet for the Varia uniform he was also forced to wear, his bedroom door swung open and a very familiar sting in his left shoulder showed that it was Bel, and he had come to his roomed armed and more than dangerous.

The only thing that showed even the slightest pain was the single tear that fell from his right eye and down his cheek. The drop of water was quickly wiped away, but not before the so-called prince had seen it.

In the door of his bedroom stood Belphegor with another three knives in between his fingers. The oh-so frightening grin was plastered on his lips, and the laugh that had Varia officers quaking in their boots echoed through his room. "You're late, uncute kouhai. Mammon would have already been ready."

Even when he got up was being compared to Mammon. One of these days, Fran would prove that being Fran was just as good as being Mammon. Maybe then Belphegor would actually realize that he, Fran, was here and that the arcobaleno that had previously had the place as the Mist guardian was not going to come back.

Fran actually felt sorry for the prince. He must have cared a lot about Mammon to be complaining about him being gone. That's why he hated the Mafia. They had destroyed someone that had been cared about enough to have been missed, and it was that pain that kept Belphegor from accepting anyone else. In a small corner of his heart, Fran wished that Bel would miss him that much if something had happened to him.


End file.
